


The Man and the Lamb

by TheWildWestPyro



Category: BioShock
Genre: Bioshock - Freeform, Complete, F/M, Fluff, How it should have been, Overprotective Dad Booker, Spoilers for AU ending, This is kind of a fix-it if you will, extensive Booker backstory, jack/elizabeth - Freeform, the man and the lamb, this is me coming back to something I wrote as a teenager and building on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWildWestPyro/pseuds/TheWildWestPyro
Summary: Inspired by the idea that a number of universes exist within the Bioshock universe, this is one where Booker and Elizabeth meet Jack. Spoiler warning for Bioshock and the ending of Burial At Sea.





	1. Chapter 1

_Hello again, Bioshock fandom._

_A few years ago, I published this story at fanfiction.net and deviantArt. Although reception was good, I’ve improved my writing over the years. Eventually, I finished the second chapter and ended the story, but the tone was drastically different to the first chapter. So I’ve decided to revise it-make this chapter a little bit more readable and remove any potential OOC moments and errors while keeping the general premise intact._

_It’s been too long, I know-three years since I wrote this. But life got in the way-I had exams, I had homework, I got distracted too easily. Sometimes I’d remember that I wrote fanfics, get myself all pumped up, then lose the energy to write and leave dissatisfied again. I’m about to go to college, so I don’t know if I have the time to keep on writing, even though there are . Perhaps I might find a way._

WARNING: HUGE SPOILERS FOR BIOSHOCK INFINITE!                            

_The Sea of Doors, 1912._

Booker was still in shock.

Elizabeth was his  _daughter._ And he'd sold her…sold her to a life of isolation, locked up in that horrible tower for twenty goddamned years, under the watch of Songbird and that bastard Comstock…who was also himself.

What kind of father was he? A wretched, miserable alcoholic, bringing misery to their children. A murderer that burned helpless Sioux women and children while they were still inside, that scalped fallen braves when they were struggling to get back up. A thug that foolishly believed the more brutal he was in breaking up strikes, the more the Pinkertons would pay him, up until the agency threw him out in disgust. The man who became a theocratic dictator because he thought he could do no wrong forever. Hell, he didn’t even know if Elizabeth would love her true father, a man who had left nothing behind him but death and destruction for his entire life-

_But you know she does. If she didn’t, she would have abandoned you a long time ago. And you’ve met others that see you as more than a killer._

It was true. Elizabeth had constantly given him ammo, salts, and money. She'd saved his life many times over the past few days, from Battleship Bay until the final battle. She'd even persuaded him to change some of his ways, such as not performing melee executions near her. Hell, she’d even put up when they’d walked all the way to the Salty Oyster so he could see Sally’s lovely form again.

And apparently some others thought so too. Early on, before everything went to hell, Booker had run across the couple he’d refused to stone in Battleship Bay. They’d thanked him and even given him some gear that he’d worn until it fell to pieces.  

Then there was Cornelius Slate. With all the insanity going around him in Columbia, his former CO had been the last person Booker expected to see again, much less leading a revolt against Comstock. Slate had tried to promote the so-called ‘heroic’ side of war to Booker and Elizabeth as they’d fought Slate’s troops, room by room. Booker had blocked out all of Slate’s big talk, especially what the old man had said in the Wounded Knee exhibit. Slate had cherished the screams, while Booker regularly struggled to banish them from his thoughts.

But when he’d decided to kill Slate, to save him from whatever that bastard Fink was going to do to him, the former captain had looked him in the eye, smiled and said "They haven't changed you, Booker. Not…one…bit.” Booker had instantly found himself remembering when he saw that smile.

_Sixteen-year-old Corporal DeWitt was sitting on a crate, numb with shock, gripping his Springfield Trapdoor rifle so hard his knuckles turned white, as he tried to comprehend the slaughter he’d caused hours ago. Bloody scalps and fingers dangled from his belt. Soldiers occasionally clapped him on the back, complimenting him, but Booker only replied with a nod. He had just come back from rejecting the preacher’s baptism, and now struggled alone to face his guilt._

_While the men went to celebrate, to feast on steak and whisky, Booker refused to rise, trying to find a definition for what he’d become. He was so fixated on this that he barely registered the warm hand on his shoulder. Turning around, the corporal faced his CO, Lieutenant Slate, looking at Booker with a surprisingly warm smile._

_-You’ve been sitting out here for quite some time, DeWitt. Have a drink._

_Accepting the offer of Slate’s canteen, Booker lowered his rifle and took a sip of cool water. Then, greedily, he drank the rest-he hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Booker drank so fast that he almost choked, but Slate patted him on the back._

_-Drink slowly, corporal. Those savages didn’t land a bullet on you-real warriors don’t die from a refreshment or two._

_Booker lowered the canteen and turned back to the lieutenant._

_-Thank you for the water, sir._

_-You don’t need to thank me, DeWitt-a hero like you deserves any reward he gets._

_-I…don’t feel like a hero, sir._

_Silence, then Slate’s voice turned dark._

_-What do you mean, you don’t feel like a hero? What you did out there showed you weren’t no Injun. Is it because that sergeant said you had redskin blood? That he got his men to beat and spit on you? Ignore everything they said-they aren’t real men. Come with me, and I’ll show you how the army treats heroes._

_The next few moments were a blur of joy and euphoria. Booker walking into the mess hall as the entire regiment applauded, calling him “White Injun” and shaking his hand. Slate regaling the astonished men with tales of how Booker had heroically stormed the Lakota ‘defenses’ like Achilles, striking or gunning down every savage in his way like a Spartan at Thermopylae, fearing neither spear or Indian bullet as he burned teepees to ash. Booker receiving toast after toast from men he never knew, but stated that they were proud to fight alongside him. Slate singling out the bullying sergeant and his cronies, shaming them into silence while Booker’s comrades yelled insults at the corporal’s tormenters until they were hoarse._

_Although he knew that all the holy water in the world would never wash away the guilt, the horror of murdering his own unarmed people in cold blood, Booker finally felt accepted by his fellow soldiers, and gratitude to Slate for sticking up for him of all people, a lowly corporal in the 7 th Cavalry. For a few hours, Booker relaxed and enjoyed himself, playing poker with his newfound friends, before his eternal nightmares began and the women and children he’d slain howled at him in fury for years to come. _

As for Slate’s last words, Booker finally realized what they meant. Slate _knew_ Booker and Comstock were one and the same, but he still considered Booker to be the better man. If even a man who enjoyed his time at Wounded Knee thought Booker capable of good…then perhaps there was some hope for his life, after all.

The boat came to a halt, interrupting Booker’s thoughts. Looking up, it was another lighthouse. Following Elizabeth inside, he watched as his daughter opened up a tear.

“There’s one reality that seems…special among the others. I’d like to visit, Booker-to see what exactly it’s like”

With a nod of approval, father and daughter slowly stepped into the tear and vanished.

 

* * *

 

**_Rapture, Tenenbaum’s Sanctuary, 1960_ **

Before the portal showed up, Jack Ryan was sitting in Tenenbaum's safe house.

He had just found out his entire life was a lie. He'd just killed his real father under the command of Atlas, who turned out to be Frank Fontaine, responsible for making his father murder his mother and had manipulated Jack from his very birth.

Now, Fontaine, according to Tenenbaum, who had known him closely before, was probably splicing himself up to become the most powerful man in the city. She suspected he would resemble the statues of huge, muscular men around Rapture, decorating the lobby and buildings-Fontaine had always liked those. In a nearby room, Tenenbaum was modifying the Big Daddy suit, with the help of a few Little Sisters, which Jack had to wear in order to fight Fontaine.

Jack was currently putting his worries behind and playing with the Little Sisters he had rescued. So far, they’d played catch, built up toy blocks into different things-a Big Daddy, the Kashmir Restaurant, a Bathysphere, a surprisingly good bust of Andrew Ryan-and he’d even found the time to assist with a tea party.

Some of the Bouncer and Rosie Big Daddies-about twenty of them-who had been hypnotized by Jack had followed him to the safe house and were now playing with the girls in the large playroom, lights glowing green. At the moment, a Bouncer was playing dress up with some of the Little Sisters, who giggled and clapped as the Bouncer calmly moved about dressed as Bo Peep in a makeshift, huge ‘costume’, while the other behemoths watched him in interest.

Over in a corner, some girls were reading-Tenenbaum had gotten hold of some children's books Fontaine had smuggled into Rapture. Some of the more knowledgeable Little Sisters were even reading stories to their Big Daddies, who listened attentively, although Jack wasn’t sure if the stories even registered in their broken minds.

Just then, there was a huge crackling noise. The Little Sisters ran to the nearest Big Daddy or Jack and huddled around them, frightened as a white crack, blazing with energy, appeared in the wall. Instinctively, the Big Daddies’ eyes turned yellow as they signaled to the Little Sisters to hide behind them, then spread out for a better field of fire.  

"What is it Mr. B?"

"I'm scared, Uncle Jack!"

"Is it an evil angel with that scary melting face?"

"Have they come to get us?"

Tenembaum had stopped working to look, as the crack in the wall widened to reveal two figures, a man and a girl. They were in some sort of lighthouse, by the looks of it, and wearing some very outdated clothing. While the girl had no weapons, the man was gripping a lever-action shotgun in one hand.

Diving behind a table, Jack sprang into action. A Big Daddy moved to cover the Little Sisters that had previously huddled around "Uncle Jack”. Jack loaded his Pistol and checked his Tommy Gun. Wrench in hand, he stepped into the middle of the room as the man walked closer to the portal.

To Jack's astonishment, the man and girl stepped  _through_ the tear and into the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Booker Dewitt raised his China Broom and quickly surveyed his surroundings.

He was in some sort of playroom, covered in drawings and posters, and full of little girls. For some reason they held oversized syringes and they were hiding behind what seemed to be a sort of advanced Handyman-with drills and guns instead of giant fists and in what seemed to be giant diving suits, with their eyes glowing yellow.

Then, one of the Handymen, with a pink frilly dress tied around his waist and what appeared to be a giant bonnet, raised his drill and charged at Booker. Booker immediately dodged, and prepared to fire, but realized that his shots could easily hit the children. Lowering his shotgun, he quickly sipped one of the vigors tied to his belt. As his skin (painlessly) cracked and split open, Booker watched as the power of Bucking Bronco slammed the Handyman across the room.

His opponent was immediately caught by twenty of the little girls, who pushed him back up and yelled "Unzip him, Mr. B!"

Before Booker could make his next move, a young man, stepped out of the shadows. The man was roughly in his twenties, brown-haired and dressed in a bloodstained sweater with rolled-up sleeves, as well as brown pants. With a wave of his arm, the Handyman’s eyes faded to yellow and he stepped backwards until he covered the crowd of children behind him.

Instantly, the young man raised the wrench in his hand, crackling with what could be the Shock Jockey vigor, and charged at Booker.

The private eye was caught off guard at first. The wrench crashed into his skull, and Booker yelled as electricity shot up and through his veins. The impact sent him flying into a pile of building blocks. Groaning, Booker got back up as his attacker advanced towards him. There was only one thing to do now-

He yelled "CHARGE!" and immediately his hand turned from cracked and bleeding to swirling with wind and lightning. Drawing his Skyhook, Booker crashed into his opponent, slamming him into the wall with successive blows. Eventually, the impact sent the young man flying across the room and into the ceiling, landing in a heap on the ground, blood leaking from his head. The little girls gasped.

Immediately, Booker snagged the young man's sweater with his Skyhook and slammed him against the wall. Frightened and confused, the man dropped his Wrench. Booker drew his Broadsider, poking it into the man’s gut.

“I’m not here to kill you.” snarled Booker. “I just want to know two things. Who the fuck are you, AND WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLACE?”

Grabbing the pistol’s barrel, he smashed the butt into the young man's head, causing more blood to shoot out. He'd often done that in interrogations. The other Pinkertons thought it was too brutal, but it got Booker a lot more information than their normal techniques, and in a shorter time too. Hearing no reply, Booker raised his arm for another blow until a hand grabbed it.

"BOOKER! STOP! He was just trying to defend those little girls…"

Turning to his daughter, Booker released the young man, who was barely conscious and holstered his gun.

"Where are we?"

"That city at the bottom of the sea we drowned Songbird in."

“WHAT?“

 

* * *

 

After bandaging Jack’s head and ordering a Big Daddy to carry him to a bed, Tenenbaum sat at her desk, going over what had happened a few minutes ago.

She did not know who they were, but she knew that they came from the past despite all reason saying otherwise. Science fiction authors had written about time travel, but in academic circles it was dismissed as impossible. During her time in the camps, she had heard rumors about how Hitler had funded and overseen an attempt by his army to perform time travel. Like all their pointless experiments, it had failed and produced nothing useful. She would ask the travelers questions later-Jack would have to talk with them first.

There was a little knock on the door. Tenenbaum opened the door, and saw a Little Sister come in timidly.

"Will Uncle Jack turn into an angel?"

"No, my child. He will survive."

The Little Sister beamed.

"Will we get to play with Uncle Jack again?"

"Yes, soon. He will talk with those two people first."

"But that bad man will hurt him again!"

"Do not worry-I have a feeling that the man is not bad, child. And I think the girl will keep him in check-is that how they say it? Anyway, go play with your Mr. Bubbles. And do polish your shoes, please!”

The little girl nodded and ran down the corridor, just as a Bouncer set down a rag and a large container of shoe polish at its end, accompanied by a queue of little girls with dusty and bloodstained shoes.

 

* * *

 

Jack woke up with a massive headache. He tried to get up, but something held him down.

"Stay still. Your head's still bleeding."

Jack looked up and his eyes widened as the most beautiful girl he had ever seen sat on his bed.

Her hair was brown, short but almost reaching to her shoulders. A beautiful, ornate choker rested on her slim neck, showing a bird. She wore a dark blue jacket and matching dress with a silver hem, and a white corset under her jacket, exposing some cleavage. Jack felt a bit worried about that-the male Splicers, especially the Breadwinner and Toasty ones, would try to harm her.

"W-Who are you?"

Jack felt his cheeks grow warm as she smiled.

"I'm Elizabeth."

She gestured to the man in outdated clothing sitting in a corner, who was now cleaning his shotgun and glowering at Jack.

"And that's my father, Booker. Don't worry-he's got a bit of a grudge after you struck him."

With some effort, Jack stood up from the bed.

" Come with me. I'll explain everything."

The girl nodded and beckoned for her father to come.

 

* * *

 

 

They walked through the dark streets towards the Kashmir Restaurant. Booker carried his China Broom in one hand, Jack had his Tommy gun out and Elizabeth held a Triple R.

Along the way, Elizabeth told Jack about their adventures, with Booker adding bits along the way.

Jack was amazed. He never thought there would be a place worse than Rapture, but here was one-a flying city of all places. In Rapture, all you had to deal with were Splicers and Big Daddies. In Columbia, you had to fight all types of enemies from crazed revolutionaries to a screaming ghost to a clockwork Founding Father or American President with a Minigun.  The man who ruled and controlled the entire populace was a fundamentalist megalomaniac who believed that he was incapable of doing any wrong once baptized.

In Rapture, you had to deal with people driven mad from ADAM-but in Columbia, people were turned into heartless monsters from what they  _believed_ in. And while Rapture, in its heyday, accepted everyone, no matter who or what they were, Columbia was racist, homophobic, xenophobic, fanatically religious and imperialistic. In short, Columbia was probably everything Jack's father would have hated. And just like the underwater city, it was beautiful, but ultimately rotten at the surface.

Then there was Elizabeth’s powers. ADAM and the vigors could do so many things, but hers surpassed all that. Ripping through the fabric of the universe, travelling into different universes and being able to keep tabs on all of them sounded like science fiction, but it had become second nature to Elizabeth.

They finally reached the restaurant, splicer-free thanks to Jack’s efforts. After finding and cooking food, the trio ate, exchanging their adventures. While Booker went to scavenge around Rapture and eat out of trash cans, Jack and Elizabeth were free to chat.

Jack soon found that Elizabeth was  _everything_  he wanted in a girl. She was incredibly smart and pretty at the same time. She knew a lot of things that would have helped him in his adventures-lockpicking, finding money and ammo, coordinates-and she did know how to look after herself. Jack would have paid ten dollars to see her kick Atlas in the groin.

They also had a lot in common. Their fathers were evil dictators who used to be good but went drunk on power, their mothers were killed by their husbands, they were isolated for a long time, they never had a proper childhood and they were separated from their real parents.

Jack also loved the way she looked. Her laugh, her eyes, her natural beauty that Steinman would have loved if he wasn't so insane, and her smile. Her smile was the most beautiful thing about her.

As for Elizabeth, she found out that she really, really liked Jack.

He was undoubtedly handsome yet adorable at the same time-a child in the body of an adult. He was 20, the same age as her, but should actually have been 4 at the time.

He had suffered a lot as well-forced into hijacking a plane (some wonderful invention that let you travel in the skies comfortably, like an airship but faster and considerably less flammable) and killing everyone in board except him, being controlled and manipulated by someone he thought was a friend, tricked into murdering his own father and now found out that his entire life was a lie. And he'd ended up in a utopia turned into a nightmare, where most of the population were "spliced" or dead or insane.

She wanted to hug him so badly, but she knew it wasn't the right time.

He was quite good looking-a perfect sculpted body due to all the genetic testing, brown hair she ran her hand through a few times, his gentle eyes-and she liked it.

One of the Rapture bookshops remained open. Once their lunch was done, Jack and Elizabeth sat and read books, exchanging details occasionally, before heading back to the Kashmir to talk some more.

At one point, Elizabeth checked the time on the restaurant’s clock. Several hours had gone by already…yet she didn’t want to leave. Not just yet. Not when she’d just barely gotten to know this wonderful man. Then she realized Jack was holding both of her hands.

"Um…just before you go…"

He blushed.

"I hope to see you again some day."

Elizabeth smiled, a warm feeling growing inside her. Something that she’d read about, but never fully experienced. To her delight, she realized that this was possibly what love felt like.

"Me too…"

And to Jack's surprise, she kissed him in the cheek.

Jack returned the favor by putting his arms round her trim waist affectionately and putting his head on her shoulder. His father used to do it with Jasmine Jolene when he was younger.

Unfortunately, Booker came in at that very moment, and thought they were going to do something else. And from Booker’s point of view, Jack had clearly seduced her while he was away. With Comstock gone, there was no way in hell he was going to let anybody take liberties with his daughter.

"YOU!"

Jack turned as Booker slammed into him, sending the two men crashing into a few tables.

"GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!"

Booker disarmed Jack, threw his fully upgraded Tommy Gun across the room and attacked him with his Shotgun butt. Then, Booker slammed the Skyhook into Jack's chest, still whirring. Jack tried his best not to scream as the hook tore through flesh and bone. He tried to tug it out and succeeded, throwing it at Booker. Booker picked it up and Jack cracked him on the head with his Pistol butt. Instead, Booker picked his Broadsider up and charged. And this time Jack crashed through the window of the Kashmir Restaurant.

As he fell, he saw Booker raise his Broadsider to shoot, and Elizabeth run over and open a tear…

Then a pair of big, warm hands caught Jack, and Jack passed out in pain.

 

* * *

 

 

When Jack woke up, he was in the safe house, in the arms of a Big Daddy-a Rosie to be specific. He’d been patched up again and had clearly dozed off while doing so, given by the bandages and blanket on top of him.

“Thanks…Mr. Bubbles”

The Big Daddy grunted in happiness and gestured to the far end of the room, where Elizabeth was now furiously arguing with Booker.

"-he wasn't going to do that!"

"YES HE WAS! He was moving his hands around your corset!"

"No he wasn't!"

"Yes he was!"

"Why, Booker? Why have you become so overprotective all of a sudden? Is it because now that I’m your daughter means that you have to shield me from the world? After all the battles we’ve witnessed, after all the cruelty we’ve seen? Do you think I was blind to it all? And now you want to kill an innocent man?”

Booker sighed.

"First of all, you need to learn that taking a lover before you’ve even gotten to know him properly is inappropriate and absurd. You don’t just throw yourself at the nearest Arrow Collar man because he said you looked beautiful! Second, Jack has clearly demonstrated he can’t court a woman properly. When I knew your mother, Elizabeth, I took her to the park. I danced with her. We exchanged love letters, we joked with each other and we only made physical contact after we were both completely sure of it, after we knew each other for months. But letting him touch you in that area so quickly, after a few hours? That’s called seduction and it’s a twisted, awful thing to do.  And don’t let me get started on the fact he never properly introduced himself to me first. Finally, you're my daughter, Elizabeth. You were harmed by a twisted version of myself for 20 years, and I never want it to happen again. Now open a tear. We're leaving this place!"

Elizabeth reluctantly opened a tear, and let Booker enter it first.

Then she turned.

"Hey Jack! CATCH!"

She flung him her handkerchief and blew him a kiss before Booker yelled at her to follow him.

Jack ran to thank her, but the tear closed and she was gone.

He looked sadly at the handkerchief in his hands. It was blue, with a pattern of the Songbird flying. Her initials, in lace, were on it-E. Breathing in its scent, he recognized it-perfume she wore every now and then, she had told him. Suddenly, the pain went away, replaced by a feeling of calm and stillness.

Jack breathed into it a bit deeper this time, and instantly, in his mind, he saw Elizabeth and Booker rowing towards another Lighthouse.

Elizabeth turned and saw him, and waved her hand shyly.

Jack waved, and then the image faded.

Jack realized the handkerchief was glowing with white electricity, like the tears. Then he realized it.

He couldn't see her, but he could use the handkerchief to see what she was doing whenever he wanted to see her.

Just then, Tenenbaum stepped into the room. The Big Daddy stood to attention. Jack pocketed the handkerchief.

"Come, child. The suit is ready."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**To all my followers:** **Really sorry that it took this long. I started writing this back in July 2015, but life got in the way and I only finished it recently.**

**This is the final chapter-I hope that it makes up for the long wait. Reviews are good, by the way. :)**

Around this time of the day, Rapture would have been completely quiet-and it still was. Even though the city still teemed with splicers, despite Jack's one-man-war against thousands of them, most of the remaining ones had quietly retreated to the shelter of an alley, a box, a tramcar or even a room in one of the dilapidated buildings that used to be home to the best artists, writers and tennis players the post-war world had to offer.

Yet, at the highest point of the city, gunfire and the cries of battle had been raging on for hours. If any splicers had the curiosity to venture any closer, they would have seen explosions and flames coming from the Special Exhibit wing of Rapture's Memorial Museum.

The first of the two giants locked in combat looked exactly like a smaller "Bouncer" Big Daddy, but lacked the drill that was often carried. Instead, it switched through multiple guns-a shotgun blasting Lightning buckshot, a fully upgraded Pistol and a Tommy Gun that blazed away in short bursts. Occasionally, when it got close enough, it whipped out a pipe wrench, crackling with electricity, and slammed it into its opponent.

The second figure could be called a moving statue, the classical personification of Atlas-a bald, heavily muscular man, primed to the point of physical perfection and almost godlike in his powers. His skin seemed bronze, and he did not seem human-fire, ice and electricity literally flowed through his body as he hurled fireballs, lightning bolts and shards of ice at the Big Daddy.

Yet, this classical man of metal was still human. Behind the darkened bronze skin and rippling muscles was the infamous gangster Frank Fontaine, who had pumped himself up with all the ADAM he could find and turned into a bronzed abomination.

An abomination with absolutely no private parts at all, that is.

And he was battling Jack Ryan, the son of the city's founder turned-Big-Brother-style dictator, Andrew Ryan.

And unfortunately, things weren't looking good for Jack.

 

* * *

 

 

_How is he still alive?_

Jack had been expecting a long and brutal fight from the moment he'd seen the state Fontaine was now in.

The gangster had endured burning gasoline, proximity mines, and a very violent fall down the stairs. He had been pumped full of crossbow bolts, bullets from Security Bots, countless Electric Buck and slammed into walls from Heat-Seeking RPGs. Jack had thrown all his remaining plasmids at him, emptied his guns into him over and over, bashed him with his wrench repeatedly and stabbed him with the ADAM needle whenever he had the chance.

If Fontaine still resembled Atlas, all the ADAM he had back then would have done him no good against Jack's assault. He'd be a torn corpse sitting in a sea of his own blood, like another regular dead splicer.

_Whatever I throw at him, he keeps on coming. When will he fall?_

Jack was beginning to have doubts about the resilience of the Big Daddy suit as Fontaine's hardened fist slammed into his helmet.

Diving backwards to avoid a crackling electric bolt, Jack let off a savage burst from his submachine gun as Fontaine charged towards him. The titan staggered, letting Jack set up a Target Dummy before Fontaine recovered.

He charged off to a vent, gratefully accepting the ammo from a Little Sister as Fontaine rose up and gave the decoy a furious right hook.

"IT'S THE DOUBLE CROSS, HA? I'LL GET YA!"

Fontaine raised his arm and immediately summoned another battalion of loyal splicers, who rushed in, guns blazing and hooks swinging. Their determination was admirable, but it didn't stop them from being destroyed by the Trap Bolts or gunned down in a storm of lead.

As Jack's Thompson finally ran empty, Fontaine hurled his fists at him again, following up with a barrage of electric orbs. Catching them as if they were baseballs, Jack telekinetically reflected them, sending them into a wall instead. Screaming in anger, Fontaine charged at Jack, slamming into him repeatedly.

Groggy and aching from the pain, Jack weakly staggered to his feet, before freezing Fontaine with Winter Blast. Hoping that his final strategy would finish him off, Jack limped around the arena and fired the last of his mines around the frozen mobster, then retreated to a safe area when Fontaine broke out of his icy shell.

While Fontaine was covered in shrapnel and smoke, Jack gingerly lifted up his Crossbow, steadied his tired arms and aimed at Fontaine's moving head as the giant struggled to escape the minefield.

_Steady now…_

At the very instant Fontaine's head finally stopped moving, Jack fired. Before he could turn around, the bolt slammed into Fontaine's skull.

Shaken from the impact, with his legs and arms screaming in protest, Jack got out his ADAM needle and prepared to charge. Meanwhile, Fontaine quickly ran back towards his machine, hanging there once again to try and recharge.

_Ignore the pain! He's at the end of the road as well! One last hit, Jack! Go get him!_

Roaring a final battle cry, Jack lunged at Fontaine and thrust the needle into his groin with all his force, before finally collapsing in exhaustion.

Then, to Jack's horror, Fontaine slowly stood up and threw the needle away.

In her vent, Masha Lutz quietly blinked back tears.

This wasn't right! Mr. Bubbles had faced dragons, evil knights and fought scary sorcerors and witches. No matter how scary they were or how big they were, Mr. B had knocked them down and sent them running away. But now the bad man had trounced poor Mr. B and now he was about to make him into a sleeping angel.

All Masha wanted was to run over to the golden knight lying on the floor and try to give him some goodies to get him back up, but she knew that Mr. B would not have liked that. He would have wanted her to stay back to stop her getting hurt from a spell or dragon flames.

Then, all of a sudden, a pretty woman wielding a crossbow popped up in front of the vent. She put a finger to her lips before Masha could talk, then beckoned her to come closer. Although the Little Sister didn't exactly recognize her, something told her that this woman meant her no harm.

"Masha, when I raise my hand, rush out of the vents and harvest that giant brute's ADAM."

Excitedly, Masha nodded in response, gripping her needle excitedly. The woman smiled and moved on to talk with the six other girls in the vents.

They were all going to save Mr. B. Now all they had to do was wait.

"I had you built! I sent you topside! I called you back, showed you what you was, what you was capable of! Even that life you thought you had, that was something I dreamed up and had tattooed inside your head. Now, if you don't call that family, I don't know what is. And now…"

As Fontaine gloated, Jack miserably lay on the floor, battered and dizzy from the pain. He could barely hear what Fontaine was saying.

All he knew was that he had lost, and the man who had destroyed his life had won. He hoped that Tenenbaum could get the girls somewhere else safely, but they now stood no chance against Fontaine, no matter how many Daddies they had left.

Then, Fontaine started screaming as bolts tore through his legs, sending him crashing to the ground. Jack gazed in surprise as the 4 Little Sisters charged out of the vents and furiously stabbed Fontaine with their needles, draining away every last bit of life he had as he desperately tried to wrench them off.

And walking over to Jack, with a crossbow in her hand, was a brunette dressed like a stewardess.

It wasn't until his savior helped him out of his suit and whispered her congratulations to him did Jack realize it was Elizabeth.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Jack and Elizabeth stood at the steps of the lighthouse together, both holding hands.

Although still shaky from his duel with Fontaine, Jack felt almost nothing as he gazed at the beautiful horizon, sun shining through the clouds and reflected on the events.

Once Elizabeth had helped him to his feet, a Little Sister approached them, holding Ryan's key in her tiny hands, offering it to Jack. The key would let him control the city and all the technology and splicers that were in it. He could have even cleaned up the place, making it safer for the Sisters to live in.

But he'd refused the key. As happy as they were, the city was still a wretched, miserable hive, unsafe for the girls to live in. Instead, he'd taken the child's hand and tossed the key away, limping back off to the safe house, surrounded by the overjoyed girls.

The recovery had been agonizing and painful, but to have Elizabeth by his side the whole time was more than enough to make up for it. To have her cuddle him when the nightmares returned, kiss him better or simply chat with him was better than any first aid kit.

As he found out, Elizabeth had been forced to drown Booker, in order to stop Comstock from existing. She then travelled through all the different universes, eliminating Comstock after Comstock, with the help of two scientists known as the Lutece twins. With all her targets gone, she'd headed back to Rapture to find Jack and found him just as Fontaine was about to dispose of him.

Both of them were now free, their missions fully completed, and so Jack and Elizabeth decided on what to do with their lives now.

Jack's train of thought was interrupted as a bathysphere splashed onto the surface. The hatch opened, revealing the seven children quietly shielding their eyes from the sun's glare.

Slowly, Jack and Elizabeth helped them into a waiting boat nearby, piloted by the Luteces. The papers for their new lives had been prepared and already there was a house set up for them, in a quiet suburb.

As the Little Sisters chattered excitedly, Elizabeth tenderly kissed Jack's cheek and burrowed her head into his shoulder. In return, Jack quietly clasped her hands and planted a kiss on her forehead.

They'd both been denied the freedoms and love that came with a proper childhood, and they knew the effects all too well. And these young girls had been denied it for too long.

Now Jack and Elizabeth were together, they could now raise the Little Sisters as their children, sparing them the traumas they both had endured. The girls would be able to learn, to find love, to see the world and be free. But most of all, they would get back the one thing stolen from them all those years ago-a family.

**FIN**


End file.
